


Solitude

by schwarmerei1



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwarmerei1/pseuds/schwarmerei1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An already seriously AU version of what happens immediately after 3.22</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Detective Frank Seabrook was Kalinda’s police contact in “Lifeguard” and “Infamy”, Tom Li was the Medical Examiner in “Painkiller” and “Bad”.
> 
> Thanks go to hotladykisses for combining insightful suggestions with infinite patience. I hope you know how much I appreciate your help.
> 
> Warning for implied violence and sexual assault.

Kalinda drifts through exhaustion and nausea. Morphine quiets the pain but traps her in a riptide she can’t swim her way out of. And her brain is not helping. Normally her mind is orderly and obedient, even things she would rather not think about stay under her control. Now is not normal. 

One person her thoughts keep coming back to is Tom Li. When Kalinda Sharma was newly minted she learned a lot from Tom as she watched him not assume anything over the bodies that were like endless iterations of Leela’s averted fate. Kalinda can recall a night in a bar with Tom and his slightly stereotypical interior designer boyfriend _. “Honey, sometimes I don’t know how you can go to work each day.”_ Tom had replied that at least his patients were no longer suffering, he pitied the police who had to try to make convictions stick for the living. _“How fucked up is it that you hope your rape victim was beaten up so you don’t have to argue he said / she said?”_

The same can be said for arguing murder versus self-defence.

\---------

Will texts her.  
_\- I thought you were going away so didn’t ask questions. Sorry You ok?_  
_\- I will be. Don’t worry about it_

She’s sure they’ll be fine.

\---------

Diane calls her. Courteous, checks whether it’s a good time to talk first, business-like “Obviously take all the time you need, but do you have any idea when you’ll be back?”

Kalinda says a few weeks, promises to update if the doctors say otherwise. Then suggests Diane call Sophia if she needs anything urgently. She can deal with this, professional and straight up, no sympathy and no questions.

\---------

Cary actually comes to visit her, brings her flowers for fuck’s sake.

“Really?” she looks at him incredulous. A day later, concussion and analgesia still haze her perception. His grey suit seems to blend into the dreary hospital palette of neutral colours.

“Sure, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you visit someone in hospital?”

He hovers, eventually sits down. His eyes slide over hers, they don’t meet.

Looking at him not looking at her makes her feel damaged in ways the things that Nick has done to her can’t.

He also looks like a younger, softer, prettier Nick minus the blue eyes. Kalinda had always been aware of that, but the resemblance has never been at the surface of her thoughts before.

When he leaves she asks the nurse doing her observations to put the flowers to the back of the stand by her bed, out of eyeshot.

\---------

Alicia has been visiting her, first thing in the morning before work, and then again in the afternoon.

Alicia blusters through each visit via patter of concern laced with fussing, learned from years of practice. Whenever she slows or stops her face becomes tinged with something that could be either guilt or anger or a combination of both. There’s an occasional flash of something else, perhaps _shouldn’t you be more traumatised?_ Cary’s face showed something similar. That makes Kalinda want to raise her chin, except that would be too obvious a display of defiance. So Kalinda mostly says nothing. Her thoughts are still seeping slowly out of her brain like a dripping tap. They used to have a relationship where silences were easy.

This morning Alicia raised the stakes and presented Kalinda with a gift bag of toiletries. Then she murmured something about being late for court but coming back in the afternoon and helping Kalinda through the shower. Kalinda has reached the point of offending herself. And her scalp itches. Every time she tries to relieve the sensation her fingernails come away carrying brown crusts of dried blood.

\---------

Sophia also comes to visit. Thankfully she is not bearing gifts.

 “I’m proud of you Kali.”

Kalinda only raises her eyebrows.

“You’re here. He’s not.” Sophia says simply.

The silence between them is comfortable, they’ve always been comfortable with each other, perhaps too much so.

“Sounds trite, but is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes.”

Sophia is the solution to one of Kalinda’s problems.

The idea of being naked in Alicia’s presence in the hospital bathroom with its palimpsest odours of other people, disinfectant, and mildew, is a travesty of the thoughts that Kalinda had known she shouldn’t indulge but did. The false intimacy that awaits her on Alicia’s return is something she wants to avoid.

Sophia’s familiar hands guide her from the bed to the bathroom, settling her in the shower chair. Rub firmly through her hair and gently on her scalp, ghosting over the swelling on the back of her skull. Then peel off Kalinda’s hospital gown and wash the rest of her body. It’s one of the more tender experiences of her life, just letting someone without an agenda help her. Despite Sophia’s assistance, Kalinda is fatigued and nauseated by the time she’s back in bed, fresh gown clinging to patches of damp skin.

\---------

Alicia is just coming back to Kalinda’s room after handing her pre-trial motion when she hears Sophia talking quietly. It seems wrong to go in, it’s also wrong to linger by the doorway. She can see a vague reflection in the stainless steel of a food trolley opposite her and notices that not only is Sophia stroking Kalinda’s hand, but that Kalinda is letting her. Alicia stuffs away a feeling that she doesn’t identify in her brain’s never-diminishing inbox.

A final squeeze and Sophia is getting up from the edge of the mattress and on her way out the door. “Hey, Alicia right?”

Alicia manages to plaster on a smile and nod.

“Well she smells better than I found her, nice choice of product there.”

Sophia cocks her head back to see Kalinda giving a more muted-than-usual eye-roll. “Thanks...”

Alicia notices Kalinda’s towel-dry hair is newly twisted up and held in place with a clip.

“You’ll live. Call me, OK Kali?”

And apart from anything (everything?) else, Alicia is most certainly jealous of anyone that can deal with Kalinda so casually. Or maybe it’s just her who feels like every single interaction between them is of monumental significance.

Alicia sits in the guest chair “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Kalinda’s hand keeps hold of a plastic basin, her mouth set and brows slightly knit. Her cracked ribs are still throbbing from the exertion.

“Are you feeling sick again? Do you want me to call the nurse and get you something?”

“No, it will pass. Moving was...difficult” Kalinda can’t manage to speak more, her concentration the only thing holding the nausea at bay. The night she was brought here, she couldn’t stop vomiting, which led to a CT scan and the discovery of a linear fracture. She wants to get out of here, and acknowledging that she’s still feeling it will keep her in hospital longer.

 “I would have helped you, Kalinda. You know that, right?”

“Sophia offered. I know you’re busy...” Kalinda pauses, fatigue is winning. “Alicia, I can’t do this now. I think I need to sleep.”

Alicia scrutinises Kalinda’s pained face. “OK, I’ll see you tomorrow. Anything I can get you before I go?”

Kalinda shakes her head slowly once.

\---------

Two days later when Alicia arrives in the morning, the neurologist is in Kalinda’s room, lecturing that she won’t be discharged without approved care arrangements in place. Now seated in the chair, Alicia volunteers herself to the approving gaze of Kalinda’s doctor.

Alicia half expects a confrontation when the doctor leaves, but Kalinda looks like someone who knows she has no choice, or at least no better option. She looks better, but still unfamiliar to Alicia and it’s not only the absence of make-up, and the presence of the hospital gown. Her clever vivid face is still muted and slow. But not like that first night. Alicia had been shocked when she arrived at the hospital, panicky with dread and guilt, to see Kalinda actually incoherent. Alicia’s presence as Kalinda’s lawyer was unnecessary as that evening wore on, watching the police while they scraped, swabbed, examined, and questioned her. Kalinda couldn’t remember anything to incriminate herself with. Her injuries however, spoke for themselves.

\---------

“Can you wait here?”

“Sure.” Alicia feels the pit of her stomach drop slightly. A wallpaper forest of silver Birch trees against lurid green stretches along the corridor.

Kalinda opens the door as little as possible and slips inside her apartment. Seeing it is manageable. Post-traumatic amnesia the neurologist had said, completely normal for such a head injury with loss of consciousness. Her last clear memory is of Nick seizing her by the hair and then nothing but isolated impressions that only began to cohere in the early hours of the morning in hospital. It wasn’t the scenario that she had envisaged.

_A day ago Detective Frank Seabrook asked her if she wanted to know what they had managed to construct. Kalinda shrugged “I’ll read it eventually in your report, let’s hear it.”_

What she didn’t remember had been eating away at her, she could see and feel evidence on her body, but her mind couldn’t supply the rest of the story. Now that she is here she can see a small bloodstain (hers) on the floor where apparently she hit the back of her head after being thrown into the kitchen countertop that cracked several of her ribs.

The puddle of dried blood by the door of her bedroom (his) where she shot him is considerably more impressive.

A horde of police techs have left dusting powder over just about everything. It stands out starkly against the white.

Her bedroom looks more chaotic with the hole in the wall, smashed glass from the mirror and only a bare mattress on the bed frame. Kalinda knows all the linen is bagged up somewhere in an evidence room. So is her jewellery. Apparently her poker face was absent because she can recall Frank’s apologetic look as he took each piece from her and labelled the bags.

_“I’ll voucher it myself. It’s just for GSR, I’ll get them back to you soon.”_

_“It’s OK, follow procedure.”_

She won’t have them again until (hopefully) the State’s Attorney formally declines to prosecute. Her fingers are cold where her rings are missing.

Seeing it all is better, it provides visuals to spackle over the hole where her memory should be.

Kalinda shuts the bedroom door before letting Alicia in.

“I’m just going to get some things.”

Alicia is looking everywhere but at her. “Sure.”

“Try not to touch the dusting powder. It’s hard to get off.”

 “Do you want me to start cleaning anything up?”

“Don’t bother. I’m going to move. Forensic cleaners can do it.”

Kalinda moves slowly across the room and back through the bedroom door and shuts it behind her.

Without Kalinda’s scrutiny, Alicia tries to process many impressions at once. She can see strands of long black hair on the floor. Kalinda’s hair. She remembers Will asking her if she was coping after finding Colin Sweeney covered in blood and handcuffed to a corpse. She surprised herself when she realised that honestly it hadn’t bothered her. This feels entirely different.

And the room -- if Alicia had been asked, she would have bet that Kalinda would not be the Pottery Barn type, but this...

The stark solitude of Kalinda’s apartment is more than unsettling. There’s a single bar stool at the kitchen counter, a chaise, an armchair, a lamp, a trolley, a screen, a dresser – all white leather, lacquer and hard edges. A grouping of three vases stands like a grotesque parody of a home-decorating magazine. No sofa, no table, no desk, no television, no cushions, no rugs, no books, no pieces of paper, no pictures, nothing soft or colourful to be found anywhere. A bottle of tequila on the counter is the only evidence that someone lives here. Otherwise Alicia could have walked into a minimalist furniture showroom.

Manners be damned, Alicia begins to open kitchen cupboards. Everything is orderly, spare and immaculate, there is nothing pushed to the back, no stacks of rarely used cookware. If she had a table, Kalinda would not be able to set it for more than two people. Alicia realises that she had never given much thought to what Kalinda’s life outside of work and bars was, but now seeing this place Kalinda seems more akin to an abstract artwork displayed against the neutral backdrop of an art gallery. Not a person actually living.

Alicia feels thoughts begin to overwhelm her, she needs something to _do_. “Kalinda?”

Behind the closed door, Kalinda jumps at Alicia’s raised voice.

“I think I should clear out your fridge if you’re going to move.”

“Um, yeah okay. Thanks.”

The cupboard below the sink is as organised as Alicia expects, she pulls out several trash bags and then reaches down the gap beside the fridge to switch off the power outlet.

She dumps out ice cubes in the sink, sets a bottle of vodka on the counter and that’s it for the freezer. In the fridge, everything has reached the boundary line of unsafe to consume. There’s leftover takeout, pieces of fruit, a bag of salad greens, a range of cheeses and several bottles of milk – a boutique brand that Alicia’s never seen before that proclaims itself organic and un-homogenised. There’s nothing in the fridge that would require cooking. Alicia tips the milk down the sink without inhaling and edges everything else gingerly into a doubled bag.

In her bedroom, Kalinda struggles to make decisions. Nearly everything in her closet is for the office. Years of experience of getting called back into emergency cases at all hours and working most weekends means she doesn’t bother changing until she sheds her work clothes for bed. She doesn’t have a wardrobe suited for spending time recuperating in a friend’s apartment. She doesn’t even own pyjamas. Right now she’s wearing the clothes she would wear to the gym. She can recall asking Alicia how her workout bag came to be in her hospital room. _“I’m not sure.  I think the police brought it in with you.”_ It must have been Frank. He would have known that everything Kalinda was wearing would be taken for evidence.

She grabs the one pair of jeans she owns, that she thinks of as ‘undercover’ gear. Everything along the lines of exercise wear, the less elaborate of the knit tops she usually layers under her various vests and blouses, the robe she wears around her apartment after showering. It will have to do. She moves on to the ensuite to collect her toiletries. And then it’s time to quit stalling.

\---------

Kalinda hasn’t been through the door of Alicia’s apartment since the Carter Wright appeal. She can remember bringing Grace back here and the longing to see Alicia’s face when she saw her daughter, at war with the knowledge that her presence would be profoundly unwelcome. In the end, she hadn’t left the elevator car, hadn’t even rounded the corner to look at Alicia’s door.

“I’ll put your things in the guest room”

It was Peter’s room, Kalinda knows that. The day she spent in Alicia’s bedroom ample evidence that it was Alicia’s territory alone, at that time at least.

“It’s a bit cramped, sorry.”

“Don’t.” Kalinda deflects.

“Do you want help putting things away?”

Kalinda shakes her head slowly. “I’ll just sit a bit.”

“I’m going to go out quickly and buy some things. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You should try to get some sleep.”

The neurologist had prescribed rest, and more rest, -- no reading, no television or anything else mentally taxing.

Kalinda sinks into the paisley upholstered arm chair, eases her trainers off her feet. She had been making the trek up and down the hospital corridor multiple times for a few days now, but today has exhausted her again.

Like every room in Alicia’s apartment, this one is tastefully furnished and decorated, coordinated muted shades of almond and apricot with inoffensive framed museum posters and taxonomic prints. Every convenience considered, from extra blankets in the closet to the butler’s stand by the bed. The slightly too-small room has more furniture crammed into it than Kalinda owns in her entire apartment. The combination of that and knowing who Alicia originally set it up for is suffocating.

Kalinda doesn’t dare close her eyes here so she gets up and moves to the living room. The aqua velvet pile of Alicia’s sofa moves beneath Kalinda’s cheek, smooth in one direction, prickly the other. Her hand slides along the gap between the cushions and comes up with a stale piece of popcorn. Kalinda can imagine Grace sitting here, bowl in her lap. Here, Kalinda can sleep. 

\---------

Apparently Kalinda is regaining some of her instincts, because the sound of a key in the lock wakes her.

Alicia pauses in the doorway to the lounge room. Kalinda is obviously just sitting up. “You okay? I thought you’d be in bed.”

“Started wandering, ended up here.” That is mostly true.

“Do you want to come eat something? You’re free of hospital catering now.” Alicia offers.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Kalinda perches on a stool at the kitchen breakfast bar.

“OK, there’s some fruit.” Alicia begins to pull things out of her shopping bags. “Or I can make you a sandwich, or there’s an endless supply of crap that the kids eat if you feel like comfort food.” Alicia looks around and sees how true that is, her kitchen looks cluttered all of a sudden. She pulls out a bottle of milk from a bag and sets it in front of Kalinda along with a glass.

Kalinda looks up at her. “That’s my milk.”

“Yes, it was hard to find, that’s what took me so long. I had to give in and actually call to find a stockist.”

Kalinda’s “Thank you,” is choked.

And then Alicia can’t believe what she is seeing. Kalinda starts crying, bitten off sobs, face in her hands, presumably covering tears. 

A factsheet provided with Kalinda’s discharge summary had mentioned ‘displays of emotion’, but Alicia had assumed that Kalinda was above succumbing to such symptoms.

Her instinct is to leave the room, she is certain this is a gross invasion of Kalinda’s privacy. She also knows after today that while her imagination had always glossed over Kalinda’s solitary existence (and since finding out about Peter, Alicia had assumed that Kalinda was the ‘bad’ friend of the two of them, but perhaps it had in fact been her) there is no one else who will be coming to offer comfort.

“I’m sorry...” manages Kalinda between sobs.

If Kalinda were anyone else, Alicia would hug her, but she hesitates, unsure if touching Kalinda is a good idea. Not just because she’s Kalinda, but because of what has happened to her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought...”

“No no, this is so kind of you.” As though thoughtful gestures were a normal reason to break down, “All of it, looking after me, everything.”

“Kalinda, I do care.” It comes out somewhat harsh, and really, Alicia thinks, she hasn’t given Kalinda much reason to think that she does over the last year. “And this is my fault.”

That does break through Kalinda’s loss of control. “You mustn’t Alicia... Don’t!” Kalinda’s vehemence sounds like the real her for the first time since this all happened.

“What? Blame myself? How can I not? He found you because of me.” It’s a relief to finally let out some of the guilt Alicia’s been carrying.

“He was always going to find me. He never stopped looking.” _I should have_ _run,_ thinks Kalinda. The first time Blake said the name Leela. But she hadn’t and she knows why she didn’t then and why she didn’t this time.

Her loss of control is brief, after a few minutes Kalinda stops. Strangely she feels more like herself as a result than she has done since that night. Kalinda looks at Alicia and can see questions laced with judgement unasked.

“You’re wondering why I was ever with him.”

Alicia’s “I wasn’t assuming...” is a lie.

“I didn’t choose it for myself.” Is all Kalinda says. _I never judged you,_ is unspoken.

And apparently the months of being unable to read each other are over.

Alicia turns away, knows she doesn’t have the right to ask, but speaks to the window anyway. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

Grace in two years’ time.

“Was Peter the one that changed your name?”

“Yes.”

“Was that why...?”

“Yes.” Kalinda’s voice is completely flat.

Alicia turns back to her. “Did he know? I mean, why you were...”

“What I was running from?” Alicia nods. “Yes, but not really, he didn’t ask.”

 _And you didn’t say,_ thinks Alicia. She’s starting to feel revulsion, partly at Kalinda for trading her body, but mostly at Peter. “I can’t believe that Peter would do... would exploit...”

“Alicia,” Kalinda knows there are things that have to be said. “If I could take it back I would. I hate that I hurt you.” Both of them can hear the tears edging back into Kalinda’s voice. “But I don’t hold anything against him. He gave me something I needed, he didn’t use me. We both knew what we were doing.”

 _Kalinda’s blameless,_ repeats in Alicia’s head. And she wonders why she never thought about it, how Peter and Kalinda’s relationship remained so _cordial_. It was a series of transactions, nothing more. The two of them understood each other.

Kalinda had offered to tell her things years ago. Alicia had been too afraid to ask the questions.

“Were there others?”

Kalinda pauses first to see whether Alicia really wants to know. “It didn’t seem to be a big deal to him. I doubt I was the first. There was always some girl or other that seemed to be hanging around.” And that had been eating away at Alicia, if Kalinda was five years ago, was that the first time Peter had...

“There were two other prostitutes he saw a few times before he found Amber. And there was another girl he and Amber had a threesome with.” Kalinda pauses again to see if Alicia wants her to continue.

“I can’t prove it, but I suspect he was having a sometime affair with Geneva Pine too.”

Alicia swallows and inhales.

“You knew that?” Kalinda is surprised.

“She asked after him, when he was in jail, -- several times.”

Kalinda nods.

“God I need a drink.”

“You should,” says Kalinda. “I’d have one if I could.”

Alicia gets the tequila bottle down and pours a shot into a tumbler.

“Make it a double, have one for me.”

Alicia lets out an unamused laugh, adds more tequila, raises her glass to Kalinda and downs it.

“What about the other stuff? Like Kozko, the money, that stuff?”

“It was all pretty small. He wasn’t taking twenty grand to drop felony charges. Back-scratching and favours for people – introductions. Sometimes he took money to get someone’s kid off a DUI, that sort of thing.”

“But there was money.” Alicia knows what Peter used it for.

“Yes.” Kalinda looks at Alicia carefully. “That’s why I came to Chicago. People knew... I knew he was taking bribes.” Except that Leela had traded herself.

“I should have asked you about this a long time ago.” Alicia ponders whether denial actually did give her any comfort. “Why did you lie to me?”

Kalinda pauses. “I didn’t think telling the truth would do anything but hurt you. I assumed it was no threat to your marriage. It was just something that happened. There were no feelings involved.”

Alicia remains silent.

“It wasn’t my place to decide what you should know, I’m sorry for that too.”

Alicia nods, talked out, and leaves the kitchen. Leaves Kalinda alone to put the milk in the fridge unopened.

\---------

Alicia is curled on her side in bed, not remotely close to sleeping. _Kalinda, or Leela – two years older than Grace is now; Grace asking if Peter had been with prostitutes her own age; and Kalinda, without her boots and clothes worn like armour, knees spread apart, tiny underneath Peter._

She looks at the dresser beside her bed with the television atop it and can almost picture Kalinda on the other side of the wall. Despite the silence in her apartment Alicia is acutely aware that Kalinda is not sleeping either.

Kalinda is sitting perched on a pillow with her back to the headboard. The blinds are pulled up so she can look out into the Chicago night. The high thread count sheets beneath her feet feel like sandpaper, no matter how soft they are in reality. She can’t stop feeling Peter’s presence in this room. _How was my husband? Was he good?_ No he wasn’t. Not for the first time, Kalinda wonders if that’s the man Alicia tried to save her marriage for, or if the selfish way he used her body was simply because Kalinda didn’t matter. She hopes it was the latter.

The irony that one of the more unmemorable fucks of her life is the one she can’t forget doesn’t stop needling her. Neither does the fact that even after the trauma of the last week, all she can really think about is Alicia. Still.

Although perhaps that’s not as strange as it seems, after years living under the point of a sword, the suspending horsehair has snapped. The worst has happened. Nick’s ability to harm her now is finite. Frank Seabrook was all calm reassurance, although Kalinda is conditioned not to count her chickens. And she knows that going back to work will be humiliating, but that will be the price of staying. _I thought you were liking it here._ Will asked her a week ago. And she wasn’t lying when she replied that she was.

There’s Will, and her job, and maybe things will get better with Cary. And there’s Alicia.

Kalinda knows her feelings for Alicia have become immoderate. Two years ago, preferring Alicia, playing favourites, cutting her a break when the world didn’t, was pure enjoyment even as Kalinda knew that she was harbouring an attraction that Alicia would never return. But as she risked losing Alicia, Kalinda had clung ever closer while knowing that no amount of bailing could prevent that ship from sinking. And since losing her, Kalinda’s investment had increased exponentially. Kalinda could admit to herself that her feelings for Alicia made her vulnerable, but it was involuntary. And if it was terrifying, it was also elevating in a way that Kalinda hadn’t thought she was capable of. It had made the Sisyphean task of going to work each day possible. And whether the rock she pushed up that hill was the burden of Alicia’s coldness or Kalinda’s own emotions didn’t much matter. 

Alicia is just about to resort to her bathroom cabinet and the bottle of sleeping pills that sees occasional duty, Saint Alicia nagging internally that chemical impairment is hardly responsible medical supervision. Then she hears the fridge door close, gently, but still audible.

She swings her feet in the direction of the kitchen instead.

Kalinda is barefoot in yoga pants and a long-sleeved top, her hair still up.  Glass of milk in hand, she was contemplating a strategic retreat to Alicia’s sofa for the night before getting caught out.

“Sorry.” She says to a slightly rumpled, pyjama-wearing Alicia.

“I wasn’t asleep. I guess you weren’t either.”

Kalinda shrugs. “I haven’t been sleeping well. They said that’s normal.” She leans against the countertop.

“I’m sorry I sort of stalked off there before.”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“I want to.” And Alicia does. There’s a part of her that keeps defaulting to coldness towards Kalinda, as though she can’t give up the habit of the last year.

Kalinda sees Alicia’s eyes dart up to the shelf where the liquor bottles are kept. She tilts her head. “Go for it.”

Alicia shakes her head, “I’m fine.”

“What, Grace drawing a line on the bottle now?”

Alicia snorts and sees a tentative smile rest briefly on Kalinda’s face. And just as quickly, it’s gone.

And not for the first time this week Kalinda looks tiny. Not just smaller than Grace now, but the Grace of years ago. Without makeup, boots and leather jackets, there are no trappings to sell the idea that Kalinda’s persona is cool or exotic or desirable. There’s just a very small woman that no one will bake a cake for on _Just Because Day_.

Alicia crosses the room. If Sophia can touch her and Kalinda not flinch, surely Alicia can too. She takes her hand, “Come on.”

Alicia leads Kalinda into her bedroom and steers her to the far side of the bed.

“I’ll keep you awake.” Kalinda protests.

“I’m not sleeping from worrying about you not sleeping.” Alicia takes the glass out of Kalinda’s hand and sets it on the nightstand.

It must be some sort of mom thing, because Kalinda finds herself being slid into Alicia’s bed as easily as a tray of cookies into the oven.

Then Alicia rounds the bed and climbs into her side. And it’s like a replay of the Carter Wright appeal without paperwork, a deadline or an easygoing friendship.

Kalinda faces away from Alicia as she lies down. “I’m not being rude, this is just the only side I can sleep on.” Between the back of her head and her ribs, Kalinda’s choices are limited.

As she lays her head on the pillow, all the scents Kalinda associates with Alicia are present: her shampoo, her deodorant, her perfume. Alicia changed her perfume when she was sleeping with Will and began to use more of it. Kalinda wishes she could associate that smell with Alicia finding herself desirable, but it reminds her of cold glances, avoidance and hatred. She was relieved when Alicia went back to her old one.

Beyond the fragrances that Alicia applies to her body, Alicia’s bed smells of something Kalinda only occasionally got a hint of on a long car trip or when it was just the two of them working back in a closed conference room until all hours – Alicia herself. It’s something that’s been absent from Kalinda’s experience over the last year. Now she can’t help but revel in it, while simultaneously thinking how horrified Alicia would be to know what she is doing. Nevertheless, Kalinda is aware of each inhalation and tries to build a store of memory.

“I missed you.” Kalinda exhales without meaning to speak it aloud.

There’s the sound of sheets moving as Alicia shifts towards her. Then Alicia’s hand strokes between her shoulder blades and rests there.

“I missed you too.” Alicia did, but she knows it wasn’t with the simplicity that Kalinda missed her. The self-righteous way she had enjoyed hurting Kalinda troubled her after finding out that Kalinda had brought Grace home, and it has troubled her still more over the last week. “Sleep well Kalinda.”

“You too.”

And despite everything, eventually both of them do.

\--------

At some point during the night Alicia moved closer, because when Kalinda wakes, she finds that Alicia is gently spooning her. She can feel Alicia’s warm breath against the nape of her neck, the suggestion of the softness of Alicia’s breasts against her back, and Alicia’s arm draped over her waist. Kalinda can see Alicia’s hand resting on the bed in front of her. 

It feels fraudulent. Kalinda knows that the intimacy of Alicia’s body alongside hers means something different to her than it does to Alicia. She doesn’t even know if Alicia meant to comfort her or if holding the body next to her in bed is just something Alicia does and has nothing to do with Kalinda. But she can’t help but try to prolong the experience, so she lies still and tries not to wake her companion.

She can see Alicia’s wedding ring on the hand resting on the mattress. Kalinda ponders if Alicia wore it while she was having sex with Will (yes, she decides) and what Will thought of that.

Eventually Alicia stirs, and with a yawn curls into Kalinda further, her hand coming to rest on Kalinda’s stomach.

Kalinda can’t help herself and covers Alicia’s hand with her own. She feels like she’s been starving forever and crumbs are the only food she will get.

 “Sorry, I’m a cuddler. I hope I didn’t crush you.” Alicia’s voice is still sleepy.

Well, that’s one answer for Kalinda’s questions. “I’m fine.” She leaves her hand in place.

Alicia doesn’t move away, surprised that Kalinda is letting her do this. This morning feels so much better than last night, as though the warmth of Kalinda’s body had melted away the lingering traces of frost. As though looking after Kalinda is from a place of caring rather than atonement.

They’re silent and still for minutes.

Kalinda wants to stroke her thumb over Alicia’s, to interlace their fingers, to move their hands... Wants even more to pull her hand away, but can’t bear to do it.

Alicia tries to tease out the feeling that is eluding her. Looking after people is what she does, has done since Owen became her brother, even before he needed Alicia to be more because their mother wasn’t enough. Maternal seems like a strange choice to apply to Kalinda but she chooses it, even though it’s like the piece of a jigsaw that ought to fit but doesn’t quite snap cleanly into place.

“If you like, I’ll make us some breakfast and you can have a shower.”

That’s Kalinda’s cue to move her hand away and get up. “Yeah, that sounds good, thanks.”

\---------

Kalinda also feels like a fraud using Alicia’s bathroom. Thankfully she’s beyond the stage of needing assistance showering. Alicia has cleared one side of the vanity, made space in the shower caddy for Kalinda’s shampoo and let Kalinda move in.

Even during her relationship with Donna, Kalinda acted as though Donna’s apartment was a series of overnight stays. Donna was the one who allocated her a toothbrush.

Donna had always pushed for more. Every time Kalinda had attempted to be open with her, Donna’s face still said _Yes, and..._ It felt like performing surgery on herself with a dirty scalpel and no anaesthetic. But the infection hadn’t multiplied through her bloodstream until months later with Blake as the catalyst.

Alicia is different though. Alicia is the exception to all of Kalinda’s rules, which is why she has to be more careful.

\---------

Entering the kitchen, Alicia has not held back on her promise of breakfast. Kalinda huffs out a laugh. “I guess you were hungry?”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” Alicia looks slightly abashed.

“Don’t worry, I’m covered.” Kalinda accepts pancakes and blueberries and yoghurt.

“Good girl, need to feed you up.”

Kalinda knows she has to play along, rolls her eyes. “Thanks _mom_.”

“No eggs?”

“Not first thing in the morning.”

“Better be careful.” Alicia leans forward on the counter, light and conspiratorial. “This morning I find out you don’t eat eggs for breakfast, soon you’ll be telling me your secrets.”

And Kalinda knows she will. If Alicia asks, she’ll tell her why she has no family, why she always wears her hair up. If she asks why she didn’t run, Kalinda will slice into her deepest self and reveal her heart. 

Then the doorbell sounds.

Frank Seabrook looks over-scaled inside Alicia’s kitchen, as if he might knock something over if he turns around too quickly. He pulls several plastic bags out of his pocket and extends them to Kalinda.

“That’s too fast, this can’t be official yet.”

“The paperwork isn’t finalised, but it’s official. Trust me K, no one let it sit on their desk.”

Kalinda ducks her head, eyes glistening with relief, but she doesn’t hide the fact that her small smile is genuine, She remembers how even when she was completely green at the State’s Attorney, Frank just liked her. How he used to take her shooting, insulted the bad habits she had learned from Nick and taught her how to correct them. Didn’t mind when she got to be better than him. She nods, “Thanks.”

“It’s going to be okay. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

When he leaves, Kalinda curbs her impulse to take her jewellery to the sink, wash it clean and put it back on immediately.

Alicia comes back from the front door and sits down on the stool next to her.

“Did it actually happen like the detective thinks it did?”

“Are you asking as my lawyer? Or...?”

“I’m not asking as your lawyer.”

Kalinda answers with slow deliberation. “Not entirely.”

If pressed further, Kalinda would answer, but Alicia doesn’t press.

Kalinda’s mind is screaming at her about how dangerous this is. How much she is risking by her own stupid inability to restrain herself. She can’t lose Alicia again. She can’t.

“Don’t you usually have Zach and Grace during the week?”

“Yes, but they’re having fun over at the house. I doubt they’re missing me.”

“You can’t have seen them all last week. You visited me every evening.”

Alicia shrugs.

“There’s no need to not see your kids just because I’m here.”

“You need to rest.”

“Alicia, I get on fine with your kids.”

Alicia blinks. It’s true -- in the case of Zach, probably better than fine.

“Besides,” adds Kalinda, “You can’t tell me they don’t spend all their time in their rooms, chatting on their computers about how unfair their lives are.”

Alicia has to laugh at that.

“Our paths will scarcely cross.”

“Point taken.”

“If David Lee were still your lawyer, I’m sure he’d advise you to maintain visitation arrangements.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. Of course Kalinda would have found out that she’d consulted him.

“Alright, if you really don’t mind.”

“I really don’t.”

Alicia gets up from the stool. “I’ll phone them now.” Some little part of her whispers something to her, but it is quiet enough for Alicia to ignore. 

Kalinda watches her disappear to find the phone. This is a better idea. Having Zach and Grace here will be safe. What happened last night mustn’t be repeated. Kalinda would rather rub her skin raw against the sandpaper of the guest room sheets.

  



End file.
